Restoration Of The Soul
by solitairebbw218
Summary: Modern AU! A fortune in artwork is found in the neglected Opera Populaire, and the young American woman hired to restore them for the new owner gets more than she bargained for when she encounters our favorite Phantom in a French Chateau! Please R & R
1. Chapter 1

Greetings, friends! This is my first attempt at a full length POTO fan fic, so I hope you will find it worth reading. I have never done a fan fic with music lyrics in it, so I hope that this isn't too terribly annoying to everyone.

_As usual, I don't own any of the literary characters from Phantom Of The Opera, and I am in no way profiting from these writings. I do this strictly for my own enjoyment and to hopefully entertain and inspire others to do the same. Please R & R—constructive criticism is very welcome!_

Restoration Of The Soul Chapter 1: Opportunity Knocks 

(Late September…)

"This is a fantastic opportunity, my dear, and you're the only person we have on staff right now with the qualifications to work on this project. The museum can really use the funds, and a good recommendation from such a wealthy client will do wonders for our reputation."

Juliette Phelps looked across the cluttered desk at her employer, still suspicious of this strange offer that had come via express mail to Vinson Gallery in Bremerton, WA one day earlier. "Why us and why me, Mr. Chambers? I'm sure that there are hundreds of art restoration experts who would jump though hoops to work on a job of this magnitude---why request one from halfway around the world? Something about this situation just doesn't feel right to me."

"Our prospective client is a very private man, Jules, and prefers dealing with small companies that can use a helping hand, such as ours. While there are other restorers on staff with greater experience than you, you are the only one who speaks decent French, so the job is yours for the taking. Honestly, Jules.." His tone changed as he looked at his favorite protégé. "I have every confidence that you will do an excellent job…I know you'd never let me or the museum down." He leaned forward, his eyes bright with excitement. "Just think…you'd be working in a chateau in France, with a handsome salary to boot, the museum will get a much needed contribution as well as the prestige, and just think about how good it will look on your resume! Oh, don't give me that look, young lady." He chuckled at her scowl. "You can't tell me your life's ambition is to sit around cleaning paintings til the end of your days. You're a talented woman, and it would give me great pleasure to see you open your own gallery someday." When she rolled her eyes and shook her head, he leaned back with a sigh. This is one argument from past experience that he knew he would never win.

"Never mind, I know when I'm beating a dead horse." He slid a manila folder across the desk to her, and glancing at it she found that it was filled with 8 x 10 photos and documents. "I admit I was thrilled when we got the call…after all, it's not everyday that a gallery like ours get the opportunity to restore a collection of art that's been hidden in a famous French opera house for well over 100 years. Some have suffered considerable smoke damage from the fire of 1883, but here's what I thought would catch your interest. There's sufficient evidence that leads us to believe that some of these works may actually be Louis XIV or even earlier, disguised for their protection during the Revolutionary raids. The cache was discovered when the building was being gutted earlier this year by its new owner." He caught the sudden gleam of interest and had to use all his willpower to hold back a grin….'_come on, little fishy……I've set the hook with this nice bait… now it's time to reel you in…' _he thought as he studied the 20-something woman for a moment, putting on his most earnest face and leaning forward in his chair once more before continuing. "I know you've been searching for an opportunity to prove yourself and to the world that you're more than David Phelps's daughter." He saw her stiffen and quickly continued. "So, what do you say, Jules? I have the utmost faith in your abilities…..the real question is, do you?"

She was silent for a moment as she looked at the file, then asked him for a day to think about it. She was clearly intrigued by the prospect of working on such a project, and Mr. Chambers was pretty positive that she wouldn't be able to resist such an opportunity. He was not surprised at all when she called early the next morning to accept the job. Moments later, he was smiling like the proverbial Cheshire cat when he had his secretary connect him to a number in Paris.

_Grew up in a small town_

_And when the rain would fall down_

_I just stared out my window_

_Dreaming of what could be_

_And if I'd end up happy_

_I would pray (I would pray)_

_Trying hard to reach out_

_But when I'd try to speak out_

_Felt like no one could hear me_

_Wanted to belong here_

_But something felt so wrong here_

_So I pray (I would pray)_

_I could breakaway_

_Chorus:_

_I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly_

_I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky_

_I'll make a wish, Take a chance, Make a change_

_And breakaway_

Out of the darkness and into the sun 

_But I won't forget all the ones that I loved_

I'll take a risk, Take a chance, Make a change 

_And breakaway_

_From "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson_

Juliette looked out the window into the night sky as the jet cruised through the night and sighed at the view. A full moon hung in the sky, reflecting brightly off the pillow-like clouds that prohibited any view of the turbulent Atlantic Ocean far below. Most of her fellow passengers were resting or watching in-flight movies on the mini screens in the back of each seat, but she was too restless to do either.

It was still hard for her to believe that she had accepted the job and was stepping out into the unknown. Had it really only been 7 days since she had accepted the position of restoration artist for the artwork discovered at the infamous _Opera Populaire _in Paris? The time had flown by quickly as she made arrangements for the purchase of needed materials, secured her work visa, updated her passport, and packed her three large suitcases. She had been concerned about the amount of luggage she was taking at first, but restoration work was very delicate and time consuming. It was likely that she would be at the chateau where the paintings had been moved to for at least 3 months, and she had packed accordingly.

It had been a long day—first the flight to LAX, then LAX to LaGuardia, and now the last and longest leg to Paris. She was going to have one heck of a case of jet lag when she arrived at her final destination. Accepting a diet cola from the stewardess, Juliette looked out the window once more and turned on the CD player again, her thoughts drifting back to the adventure that awaited her.

Mr. Chambers had been right in one regard…..this was too fantastic an opportunity to pass up, and if she was successful at it, she would finally prove to everyone that she was more than just a spoiled little rich girl "going through a phase" where art was concerned.

As a Phelps, she could have her own gallery at any time; it would have been a simple matter of picking up the phone and her family's "people" would have been tripping over themselves to please her. She frankly admitted to one and all that she had been spoiled rotten during her teens and early 20's. "A mall hopping, tennis-playing, trend-setting, cellphone chattin', Mercedes-convertible driving debutante" was a fairly accurate description, but being the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the Northwest didn't come without a price. It had taken only one incident about 2 years after graduation, to prove to her that money couldn't buy happiness.

It was a summer she'd never forget….she was 20 and truly in love for the very first time. The young man that she had given her heart and her virginity to had been deemed unsuitable by her parents, but she had been adamant that they were in love and had refused to break it off with him. It might have been his political beliefs, his radical clothing style or his lack of status and money. But for whatever reason, they had taken it upon themselves to rectify the situation and had "bought off" the young man, sending him out of their daughter's life $50,000 richer, having signed a legal form agreeing not to contact Juliette again. When they showed her the cancelled check to prove her lover's faithlessness, they didn't get the reaction that they had been hoping for. That night, a broken hearted woman-child learned the hard way that she would never be free as long as she let her parent's money control her every move.

From that point on, Juliette had been determined that she was going to make it on her own, and so far, she had been successful. To her parent's shock and dismay, she had turned down the Ivy League education they'd been pressuring her to accept, given them back their Mercedes and instead had earned her degree at Washington State, bussing tables and working part time at a dry cleaners to make ends meet. It hadn't been easy, but to her doing things the right way instead of the easy way was worth it. She had worked hard at Vinson Gallery for the past 3 years and had managed to evade all attempts from her parents to "buy" their way into her life. She was cordial to them, but had never really forgiven them for their actions, not that they had ever apologized for doing what to them was "the right thing."

Yes, life at 27 was good for Juliette Phelps, the former Paris Hilton of Bremerton, Washington, and it looked like it was about to get a whole lot more interesting.…….


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello again, and thank you for taking the time to read this fic. I apologize for the slowness in updating, but I am working on 3 projects at once and it takes a lot out of me…this is more of a background filling in chapter—more action to follow in subsequent chapters._

_As always, I do not own any of the original characters from any version of Phantom of the Opera, although I have borrowed a few ( you may recognize some of them with different names). All I claim ownership to is the current plot line and the characters I make up in my head. I am not making any profit off of this, other than the satisfaction I get from entertaining others and my own personal enjoyment._

_That being said, here's chapter 2…enjoy!_

**Chapter 2: A Strange Welcome**

True to her prediction, Juliette was exhausted when she finally stepped off the plane at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris some 5 hours later. She had managed to catch a short nap, but instead of being refreshed she felt even more tired than before she had slept. As she came up the connecting tunnel from the plane, her tired mind was more than a bit frazzled with the prospect of meeting her new employer while in a state of mental and physical exhaustion. She immediately spotted a man in a suit and hat holding a sign with the name J. Phelps on it, and she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her tired shoulders. She smiled wearily and waved at the man, who appeared to be in his mid 40's, and he immediately came forward to relieve her of her carry on bag.

"Bonjour, Mam'selle, and welcome to France. I am Joseph, the Compte de Chagny's valet and driver. If you will permit me, I will go and collect your luggage while you go through customs. That will save us both time and hassle, no?"

Although she spoke excellent French, hearing him speak English was a welcome relief after the babble of various languages around her. There was nothing at all suggestive in the way he was looking at her, but for some reason his bright grin sent a small warning signal to her subconscious mind, and she decided on the spot that she would need to be on her guard around this man. As exhausted as she was at that point however, she would have been willing to accept help from Jack the Ripper.

"Sounds like a good plan to me, Joseph….now, point me towards Customs so I can get this over with, and heaven help the agent who gives me a hard time tonight." She would never forget the first and only other time she had traveled to France and the insulting attitude of the agent she had had to deal with. She grinned wryly at her companion as he gestured toward the long line at the gate of to her left and then sighed wearily. "Think our employer would post bail for me if I get arrested for assault?"

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What seemed like an eternity later, Juliette raised an eyebrow and couldn't resist letting out a low whistle of astonishment when Joseph ushered her toward the silver and black Classic Phantom V Rolls Royce at the curb. "My, My, My" was all Juliette could say as she stepped into the opulent car and sank back against the comfortable seat with a sigh.

Taking his position behind the wheel, Joseph caught her eye and smiled as he watched her run her hand over the butter soft upholstery with appreciation. "The Compte has a definite affinity for fine automobiles, the Phantom Rolls Royce in particular….he has 7 in his collection at the moment, although not all of them are in as good a condition as this one. He enjoys taking damaged things and restoring them to their former glory…his hobby, you might say."

"An expensive hobby, to be sure." Joseph looked back at her again and saw her staring sightlessly out the window into the rainy Paris night. _She's a pretty little thing…_he thought to himself…_a man could lose himself in those blue eyes..' _Her dark auburn hair was held back in a French braid, the end of which fell halfway down her back. She was petite, but the tan knee-length trench coat she wore couldn't disguise her woman's curves. Her head had fallen back against the seat, and he noted the deep circles under her eyes. '_Pretty, and with more than half a brain in her head…been a while since we've had one such as her under our roof.' _Yes, indeed, it would be interesting to see how the other inhabitants of the chateau reacted to having this new blood in their midst.

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The crunch of gravel pulled Juliette from her light doze as the car pulled to a smooth stop in front of the Chateau. Joseph opened the door and she stepped out, shivering slightly from more than just the chill dampness of the fall evening. The rain, which had been falling lightly when they had left the airport, had become a full fledged torrent, and Juliette's hair was saturated even on the short dash from the car to the manse. The grand house was a dark mass that reminded her of the one too many horror movies she had watched as a child, and she had to repress a shriek as the great door creaked open as she climbed the steps. Her fears were dismissed a moment later when a smiling, dark-haired and very normal human woman appeared in the doorway.

"Come in, come in, Miss Phelps, you mustn't be kept waiting there in the rain! Don't dawdle, Joseph Puquet,." She said to the driver rather sharply. "Bring her luggage to the Rose Suite while I get the Miss warmed up. Dreadful weather, simply dreadful." She could only trail along as the woman bustled down the hallway and showed her into a cheerful parlor. She took Juliette's raincoat and hung it on a rack, clucking over the obvious exhaustion of the chateau's newest resident . Juliette didn't hesitate to take one of the two chairs, which were comfortably arranged in front of a crackling fire.

"Shall I ring for some tea, Miss Phelps? And perhaps a bite to eat? You do look rather peaked." Juliette looked up and accepted the fluffy towel that the taller woman handed to her with a tired smile.

"Tea would be lovely, and I wouldn't turn down a sandwich, if it's not too much trouble. What they serve on airlines nowadays can barely be classified as edible, even by third world standards." She grimaced, recalling the dry chicken breast, soggy vegetables and hard roll that had been her "dinner" a few hours earlier. She accepted the towel the woman handed her with a smile, and settled back in the chair with a sigh, enjoying the fire's warmth.

"I apologize if I sound cranky….I've been on the go since 1:30 this morning, so you're definitely not seeing me at my best. Thank you for your kindness, and please, call me Jules. Miss Phelps is the rich, snobby, self absorbed debutante I left behind a long time ago." It was very faint, but she could have sworn she heard a chuckle coming from the fireplace …_I must be more tired than I thought……_

"Happily, Jules, and where are my manners? I'm Mrs. Geery, formerly assistant housekeeper in charge of linens at Her Majesty's residence at Balmoral. I'm in charge of the Compte's households here in France, and will be keeping the Compte informed of your progress on this project."

"So the Compte is not in residence? I was under the impression he was a hands-on kind of fellow when it came to restoration projects."

Mrs. Geery smiled and shook her head. "No, he is currently away overseeing another opera house restoration…. In Venice, I believe. He travels quite frequently, and has several homes on the Continent, as well as in America and the Middle East." Having picked up the phone on a nearby table, she instructed the person on the other end to send tea and a plate of sandwiches into the parlor before turning her attention back to Juliette.

"The Compte spends most of his time overseeing his various enterprises and doesn't have a regular permanent residence per se….I guess that is one of the quirks of being ultra rich…no necessity to settle in one place." She noticed the momentary pensive, almost sorrowful look that crossed Juliette's face but was prevented from making any further inquiries by the arrival of a maid bearing a tray with the requested edibles. After taking the tray and placing it on a small table in front of the tired young woman, she continued.

"By the way, we received your supply list, and have placed them in the 2nd floor sunroom, which has been made available for your workspace. Whatever else we might have overlooked will be made available to you, so don't hesitate to ask for anything that has not been provided. The Compte was adamant that you be extended every courtesy and that you were to be made to feel at home while you're here."

Juliette nodded wearily, setting her half eaten sandwich down and wiping her mouth on a linen napkin before she replied. "In a way, it is a relief knowing that he won't be hovering over my shoulder. Restoration is delicate work, and progress is measured in inches, not yards. I've had to explain that too many times to impatient patrons, although I doubt that that would be a problem with the Compte. After all, he was willing to bring me halfway around the world to restore these paintings, so he seems to know what he's about." She dropped two lumps of sugar into her tea and stirred it before picking it up with both hands, letting the brew's warmth be absorbed into her cold hands.

"Indeed he does, Jules, and he knows talent when he sees it. Part of my job is to do thorough screening of potential employees for his projects, and he hires only the best. He was impressed when he read about the work your gallery did on those Nicholas Hilliard portrait miniatures last year, and was most insistent that Vinton gallery be given this opportunity."

Juliette smiled as she sipped her tea. "My boss was ecstatic when we were contacted about this undertaking. I've heard tell that the Compte is quite a perfectionist though---I only hope that my work will live up to his exacting standards."

Mrs. Geery laughed. "You seem like a capable young woman who knows what you're doing….I'm sure you'll do an excellent job."

"Thank you, Mrs. Geery. I've seen the photos of some of the works I'll be restoring, and hopefully most of them are salvageable. I am looking forward to getting started right away. However…" At this point, Juliette was unable to stifle a yawn. "my body has other plans at the moment. Pardon my language, but Jet lag is a bitch."

Nodding in understanding, Mrs. Geery took the cup from Juliette's hand to set it back on the tray, then guided the drowsy woman up three flights of stairs to a large, comfortable bedroom done in rose and cream. After Mrs. Geery bid her goodnight, Juliette kicked off her damp shoes and looked around the room. Her suitcases had been stacked in the open closet, where she could see her clothes hanging neatly. After searching through a chest of drawers, she finally located a nightgown and stepped into the adjoining bathroom. Moving sluggishly, she finished her bedtime preparation and climbed into the big four poster bed, where she finally let sleep claim her.

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"I knew you had hired a woman, but you failed to mention she was pretty, Mrs. Geery." The voice clucked, but in amusement rather than disapproval.

She gave an exasperated sigh. "How could I mention it if I didn't know it myself, Eric? You didn't list any specific qualifications to avoid, you know…you wanted a person with no dependants capable of doing the work, and she was the most qualified person her gallery had available."

The voice laughed softly, then continued warm and soft as velvet. "_You misunderstand me, Madam, I'm not complaining about your choice—you did very well indeed. _ _In fact, even though I've only been in her presence a few minutes, I find her somewhat… intriguing. After all, it's been a long time since I actually had the opportunity to haunt someone so young and attractive in this house." _The ghostly chuckle that echoed in the hall gave Mrs. Geery goose bumps. _"Speaking of hauntings, I have decided that the Compte will be giving a masquerade ball on Halloween. See to the arrangements, won't you? You'll find the guest list on top of the desk in the library. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll pay a visit to the Compte's newest employee. Goodnight, Madam."_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello again, friendly readers, and please don't punjab me for being so slow in updating! I've got a lot on my plate right now and haven't been able to work on my writing as much as I'd like. I hope you'll find this offering worth the wait!_

_As always, I do not own Eric (or Erik, however you choose to spell it!) or any of the recognizable characters from Phantom of the Opera in any of its written form. I just make up the plot line and hope it comes out sounding good. I'm not making any money off of this, just doing it for the simple enjoyment of it!_

_That being said, on to the next installment!_

**Chapter 3: A Haunted Chateau? Suurrree…**

Eric paused for a few moments before the series of small rounded one way mirrors, making sure the room's resident was truly asleep before reaching down and triggering the hidden switch. He smiled with satisfaction as the secret panel swung open silently on its well-oiled hinges, maintained by him for just such an occasion. He stepped silently into the room, the slight rustling of his heavy silk-lined cloak and a slightly cooler draft of air the only signs of his entry into the quiet room. He hesitated a moment to make sure the slight sounds hadn't woken the bed's occupant before stepping confidently forward tot he side of the bed. He grinned wryly as he spoke low enough for only himself to hear. '_Over 150 years old, and still slipping into ladies boudoirs in the dead of night……guess I haven't lost my touch!'_

His eyes, already accustomed to the low light from his years in darkness, fell immediately upon the sleeping Juliette Phelps. The stray moonbeams that managed to peek through the edges of the room's heavy drapes provided more than enough light for his midnight reconnaissance. She lay on her right side, facing the elegant mirrored vanity, one hand tucked beneath the pillow and the other beneath her cheek. Her hair, no longer in its confining braid, was a dark mass against the whiteness of the bedding. _So like Christines……_

Shaking his head angrily at the direction in which his thoughts were straying, he reached into his cape and removed his calling card, a single red rose just beginning to bloom tied with a length of black satin ribbon. Leaning over, he left his token on her bedside table where she would be sure to see it when she awoke. As if she felt the breeze of his movements, the sleeping woman shivered and reached for the covers, which had slipped down to reveal her plain sleeveless cotton nightgown. She pulled them up over herself with a satisfied sigh, curling back up as she prepared to slip back into deeper sleep…….and then she sneezed…..and sneezed again.

"What the hell!" Juliette came up out of her much needed slumber with a snarl as she coughed and sneezed, her throat getting tighter and tighter as her unusual allergy struck with a vengeance. Sitting up, she rubbed her red and watering eyes as she fumbled for the bedside lamp to search for the source of her discomfort, not noticing the wall panel closing silently across the room.

Spying the fragrant culprit on the table beside the bed, Juliette sneezed repeatedly and cursed as she slipped from the comfortable bed. Grasping the mysterious token by the stem, she held it out in front of her as if it was a dead rat, wiping her streaming eyes with her other hand as she ran to the bedroom door, opened it and threw the flower down as hard as she could before closing the door with a slight slam. Stumbling to the bathroom, she retrieved her case and pulled out the small bottle of medication she carried for emergency situations, struggling to get even the tiny purple pill down her tight throat with the help of the chateau's heavy mineral-tasting water. She bent over, using the sink to hold her up as she focused on her breathing, in through her nose and out through her mouth as she waited for the attack to pass. After a few minutes, she felt the tightness easing and stood up, washing any remaining residue from her hands before wetting a washrag to sooth her flaming eyes. Wiping her face down, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and groaned. "If I was to step out of the room right now, they'd think I was a ghost. There's an original Halloween costume for ya…the Hag with Jet Lag, " A gentle knocking at her bedroom door drew her from the bathroom, which echoed with the soft chuckle from her unseen visitor.

Pulling on her robe, Juliette opened the door to find a similarly clad Mrs. Geery outside her door, a look of worry crossing her face as she took in her haggard appearance and watering eyes. "Is everything all right, Miss Phelps? I heard a noise and thought I'd better check to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine now, Mrs. Geery, thank you for asking, but I would appreciate it if your staff could refrain from leaving presents for me in the middle of the night." Mrs. Geery followed her gaze to the slightly crumpled flower on the floor beside the door, and then turned her attention back to Juliette. "I am one of those lucky people who happens to have a severe allergic reaction to roses. Fortunately it was just one….the arrival of a whole bouquet would probably have killed me."

"Good Heavens, I was afraid something like this might happen…but not on your first night in the chateau! Tell me, did you see or hear anything at all unusual this evening, my dear?"

Juliette met the woman's gaze evenly before shaking her head at the odd question. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. To be honest, I was too tired to do anything but wash up and crash. I was sound asleep when this little surprise arrived. Why do you ask?"

Mrs. Geery hesitated for just a moment before answering. "I didn't want to mention this when you first arrived, for fear that you would think me a silly old woman, but I guess I may as well mention that this chateau is supposedly haunted. I for one don't believe in such nonsense, but several others who have been on the staff here longer than myself have many stories about run ins with the spirit they call the Phantom. He has a habit of pulling pranks and making his presence known in other ways to those in this household. He has also…made his displeasure known to those he wishes to leave."

"Well, at the moment I don't really care if whomever dropped in to pay me a midnight call is pleased or displeased by my presence. Having unwanted visitors, regardless if they are breathing or not, in my bedroom while I'm sleeping was definitely NOT in my contract!" Her scowl softened into a weary grin before she continued. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's a pillow calling my name. Goodnight, Mrs. Geery." With that, she closed the door on the stunned housekeeper.

Eric had been rather annoyed and then alarmed by her unexpected reaction to his gift, and made a mental note to remind Mrs. Geery to ask about any other allergies that the restoration specialist might have. He stood listening with interest as the Chateau's housekeeper informed its newest resident about its supposed ghost and smiled at her spirited response. _I've got a feeling that this is going to be a very entertaining holiday season indeed……_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello again, friends! I know it's been a while since I updated this story, but my muse decided to take a vacation…lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this latest installment._

_Someone asked a question regarding the spelling of my character names…I have made the spellings similar but not identical to the originals, but Joseph's character is VERY similar to that of the movie…not a nice fellow, as you shall see in upcoming chapters…_

_As always, I do not own any of the characters from any written or produced adaptations of Phantom of the Opera, just the characters and plot lines that escape from my poor widdle brain._

_And Away We Go!_

**Chapter 4: The Grand Tour**

It felt like minutes rather than hours later when Juliette opened her eyes in the dim room. She felt that it was much later than her normal hour of rising; that guess was confirmed when her eyes sought out the small clock on the nightstand and found that it was nearly noon.

With a groan, she resisted the seductive softness of the Egyptian cotton sheets and down comforter and rose from the bed. Stepping into the bathroom, she groaned again when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, digging for her Visine to relieve the redeye left from the late night allergy attack. After a quick shower, she dressed for comfort in khakis, a white tank top, loose navy cotton shirt and loafers before leaving her third floor room. As she came down the last flight of stairs, she caught sight of Mrs. Geery leaving the parlor where they had spoken the previous evening.

"Good afternoon, Miss Phelps. It appears you have fully recovered from last night's ordeal." The older woman seemed to have forgiven her for her late night rudeness, and graced her with a friendly smile. "Other than the surprise floral offering, I trust that found your room to be satisfactory?"

Indeed I have and I did, Mrs. Geery, and it is just Jules, remember? I hope you'll accept my apologies for my rudeness last night. I'm afraid you caught me at my worst."

Mrs. Geery waved a small hand in a dismissive gesture. "Not at all, my dear, it is completely understandable, given the circumstances. Now, seeing as you slept through breakfast, you must be famished. Would you care to join me for luncheon and then perhaps a tour of the chateau?"

"Mrs. Geery, I'd be delighted…...lead the way!"

After a very satisfying meal in the parlor, the two ladies began their tour on the ground floor. Juliette had to admit that she was very impressed with the understated elegance of the chateau's décor. She also realized that she had grossly underestimated the chateau's size……the main floor alone was larger than the entire Vinson Gallery. She was enchanted with the library, with its masculine leather and mahogany furniture, floor to ceiling bookshelves, and the scent of beeswax furniture polish. The main floor also contained a large, mirrored ballroom, a music room complete with grand piano, harp, and various other instruments, billiard room, a breakfast room, vast kitchens, a colossal dining room with its gleaming oak table which could seat 40 easily, and the eerie trophy room filled with mounted heads. Juliette didn't go beyond the doorway to that particular chamber….being the focus of so many feral eyes frankly gave her the willies.

As they explored the Compte's magnificent home, Mrs. Geery entertained her with the history of the chateau and some of its more famous visitors. The second floor was just as impressive, with its wide hallways lined with alternating portraits and landscapes, below which were placed marble topped tables bearing delicate vases and other unique treasures. Many of the rooms on this floor were dedicated more to the feminine denizens of the household….drawing rooms, parlors, sewing rooms, suites and guest rooms similar to the one she now occupied, as well as the master suite. The upper floor contained more guest bedrooms as well as the nursery and servants quarters. As they strolled past her room, Juliette was sorely tempted to ask her hostess the question that had been burning in the back of her mind since she had risen that morning. _Granted, I was unusually tired after my long flight, but I distinctly heard the door creak when I opened it to throw the rose out last night. I am certain I locked the door before I went to bed, so how did someone get into my room without me hearing them?……_

Returning to the second floor, they arrived back at the sunroom where she was to set up her studio, and Juliette turned to her guide with a warm smile. "Thank you for the lovely tour…..hopefully now I won't take a wrong turn and end up lost in the cellar." When Mrs. Geery gasped and turned quite pale, Juliette became quite concerned and hurriedly assured the older woman she was only joking. "Don't worry, Mrs. G…… I don't make a habit of wandering into places I don't have any business being in, unlike a certain flower-delivering inhabitant who, to my knowledge, remains nameless."

"I am most relieved to hear that, Jules, for both our sakes. This house and its..shall we say, resident spirit, have their ways of dealing with those who trespass where they are not wanted, and they are most unpleasant." The woman fixed her with her steady gaze, her dark eyes imparting the seriousness of her statement.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, although I can't guarantee that your kitchen will be safe…In boarding school I was infamous for my midnight pantry raids." Juliette grinned as her hostess rolled her eyes and then smiled, shaking her head as the tension easing away. "Now, with your permission, I think I'll begin with my preliminary assessment and get all my tools and supplies organized. Tomorrow I'll be ready to start doing the job our mutual employer is paying me an obscene amount of money to do."

Three hours later, Juliette climbed the stairs and swept into her bedroom with a tired sigh. After locking the door, she laid her clipboard down on the dresser and removed the pins which had been holding her hair in a knot on top of her head, rubbing her temples where the tightness of the hairstyle had caused the beginnings of a headache. She had located all of the various solvents and chemicals she had asked for, organized her tools, and put the artworks in the loose order she would work on them. She was eager to get started, but her body still hadn't quite caught up and was threatening to shut down if she didn't get some sleep soon.

Removing her watch, she laid it on the nightstand and gathered up her nightgown and robe before heading to the bathroom. Eyeing the antique style claw foot tub, she decided on a bath rather than a shower, hoping that a soak would relieve her aching head. While the tub filled, she dug through her bag and found her tub of cucumber melon bath salts and her favorite scented candles in votive cups. Using a hair clip to secure her long mane, she slipped into the steaming water with a sigh. Smiling contentedly, she laid her head back and began to review the events of the day…..

….and came awake with the realization that the water was actually getting chilly and she definitely was well on her way to resembling a raisin. Blinking rapidly and murmuring a curse under her breath, she rose from her bath and dried off quickly with a huge fluffy towel before donning her nightwear. She approached the bed and was about to pull back the covers when she spotted the black ribboned red rose, obviously silk this time, and the black edged envelope with a red skull seal resting against the pillows….both of which hadn't been there prior to her bath.

With fingers that trembled only slightly, she tore the seal and read the note's brief contents…

'_My dear Mmse. Phelps,_

_I hope you will accept my most humble apologies for any distress my action of last evening may have caused you. I was unaware that my bestowing a small gift of welcome would have such violent consequences in terms of your health. Rest assured, dear lady, that any future tokens of my esteem will not be fresh floral in nature!_

_I do hope you found the Chateau to your liking, and will consider it your home for the duration of your stay. However, as Mrs. Geery has undoubtedly told you, it would be prudent for you to limit your exploration to the main floors of the house. There are levels below ground that are quite unsafe, and it would be a pity for your stay here to end prematurely due to your failure to heed sound advice. _

_Please don't hesitate to notify Mrs. Geery if you have any needs that have not been anticipated—she has been instructed by the Compte to assist you in any way possible. Your presence and talents are most welcome here, Mademoiselle Phelps, and I look forward to seeing the results of your efforts in the near future._

_Your Obedient Servant,_

_The Phantom_

_P.S. It really isn't safe to fall asleep while bathing, Mademoiselle_

_Before you become alarmed, I must inform you that my very nature has gifted me with certain…awareness…of activities that take place in this household. I became concerned when you didn't emerge from your bathing chamber and thought it prudent to check in on you for safety's sake. I will make every effort to respect your privacy in the future; however, I must confess that the sight of your innocent repose would undoubtedly make Botticelli sigh with delight……I certainly did._

_Pleasant dreams, Mademoiselle…_

_O.G._

The figure on the other side of the wall watched as the young woman refolded the letter and placed it and the silk rose in the drawer of the bedside table. She then calmly climbed into bed and turned off the light as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Moments later however, the Phantom grinned as his keen eyesight and hearing noted her violent reaction to his missive, her angry screams muffled in one thick feather pillow as she beat her fist in fury against its mate beside her.

'_I believe I can safely say that I've definitely gotten her attention……'._ He chuckled softly before turning back toward his lair, his black cape fluttering behind him as he slipped down the dark corridor.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello again! I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review this little fanfic of mine…and if you haven't reviewed, then thanks for at least taking the time to read it._

_By the way, if anyone out there knows of a website where a person can have expressions in English translated into French, I would appreciate it if you could drop me an e-mail with a link!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Leroux, Kay, or ALW's Phantom of the Opera and am not receiving any financial compensation for the writing of this fan fiction. I do own my original characters and the story line, so please don't run off with them or I'll be forced to ask Erik to punjab your sorry butt……Have A Nice Day!_

**Chapter 5: Taking Care of Business, Phantom-Style…….**

Even after the disturbing revelations of the night before, Juliette was surprised that she had fallen asleep quickly and had woken feeling remarkably refreshed. Rising from the bed, she strolled to the window and looked out to see that it was going to be a perfectly lovely fall day. Smiling, she went to the closet and pulled out her customary working clothes—short sleeved cotton shirt, well worn blue jeans and Doc Martins. She stopped in the bathroom doorway, glancing over her shoulder before speaking. "You said you'd respect my privacy, _monsieur le phantom_, and I expect you to keep your word." Feeling somewhat silly talking into the empty room, she entered the bathroom, the words her mysterious visitor had written resting foremost on her mind.

…………'_I will make every effort to respect your privacy in the future; however, I must confess that the sight of your innocent repose would undoubtedly make Botticelli sigh with delight……I certainly did.'…………_

Despite the heat of the shower, Juliette shivered at the thought of some unknown entity having watched her while she was naked…vulnerable. At the same time, she realized that whomever had left the note must have some gentlemanly qualities. _By his writing he appears to be highly educated, he's polite, has excellent penmanship, and he admits to spying on me so he's honest……just the traits any girl would desire in a stalker! _The silent internal commentary she was having with her self struck her as funny all of a sudden, and she couldn't help but giggle aloud. Shaking her head, she got a grip on herself and finished her shower quickly and emerged, dressed and ready to face the day. 

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After breakfast, Juliette returned at last to the second floor sunroom, ready and eager to get to work. She started out with the least damaged and smallest works of art, a 10 x 12 oil pastoral landscape. She carefully removed the canvas from its tarnished gold frame and set it up on her smaller easel before gathering her solvents and getting started.

30 minutes into her work she found herself feeling antsy, and she realized that the room was way too quiet. Covering up her cleaning solution, she made a quick dash up to her room for her small compact disc player and her favorite CD's. Returning to her temporary studio, she plugged it in, inserted her Ace of Base cd and got back to work. She spent the next 4 ½ hours removing the fine layer of sooty residue and varnish from the piece, revealing the vivid colors beneath. She got so involved with her work that she was startled when she heard a voice speak from behind her.

"I am sure the Compte appreciates your dedication, M'mselle, but I'm positive that he wouldn't approve of you working through luncheon." Juliette turned to see Joseph Buquet standing in the open doorway, holding a domed silver tray. He grinned wickedly as he continued. "I knocked twice, but you must have been rather distracted by your work and did not hear me, no?" Motioning to her boom box, he smirked. "I am surprised by your taste in music, M'mselle…I figured you for more of the classical music type."

Juliette flushed but answered calmly, somewhat irritated by his impudence. My apologies, Monsieur Buquet. I have a tendency to zone in on my subject matter once it has caught my attention, sometimes to the point that I forget about mundane things like eating and sleeping."

"You are not the only one with that trait, M'mselle….We Frenchmen have a reputation for being tenacious in our pursuit of things that catch our interest." He turned from placing her tray on the table in the center of the room, but remained, leaning against the table and showing no signs of leaving. There was no mistaking the predatory look in his eyes as they swept her from top to bottom in an insolent manner. Juliette stiffened and shot him an icy glare that would have had a respectable man retreating with frostbite, but no one who truly knew the real man would ever classify Joseph Buquet as respectable.

He laughed at her look, crossing his arms and shaking his head in amusement. "Put away those icy daggers shooting from your eyes, ma cheri,…they won't find their way to my heart---my hide is tougher than that." Moving quickly, he unfolded himself from his casual leaning position and strolled toward her, smiling when she unwillingly took a step back, her body reacting instinctively to the threat he represented. Chuckling, he took her chin in his rough, callused hand and smiled at her gasp of outrage. "Let us be honest with one another, M'mselle….you are thousands of miles from your home in an isolated French chateau, with no one but myself, Mrs. Geery, the cook and a few housemaids for company. A vibrant young woman like you certainly has needs, and it is my fondest desire to meet those needs. I can assure you, ma cheri, I am very skilled in the art of pleasing a woman, and the nights here in the chateau can be very long and very cold without a man to keep you warm."

He had released her chin and his hand traveled across her cheek and down her neck as he spoke. She shivered with revulsion before catching his hand before it reached her breast, casting it away in disgust. He outweighed her by at least 100 lbs, but she managed to lock down her fear, meeting his hot gaze with a frosty one of her own. "My needs, Monsieur Buquet, are none of your concern, and you would be the last person I would turn to even if I was as randy as a cat in heat. As for the rest, I 'm from the Great Northwest and brought my flannel nightie along to keep me warm. I'm not interested in anything you have to offer, Monsieur, and I trust we won't need to have any further discussion about this. Now, if you don't mind, my lunch is getting cold. If you'll excuse me?"

Juliette made the mistake of turning her back on him, something she would never have the opportunity to do again. Buquet stood there for a moment, stunned; no woman had ever had the audacity to dismiss him in such a manner, and he wasn't about to stand for it. Blinded by fury, the rattlesnake struck out at its prey, grabbing her wrist and jerking her to him. One hand grasped both her delicate wrists and held them to his chest while the other grasped her backside, thrusting his pelvis against her as he forced his tongue into her mouth in a bruising kiss.

His actions stunned her into immobility, which lasted only for a moment as her brain began to function again. _**HOW DARE HE!** _was the only thought that screamed in her head before her self defense training took over. Her ardent attacker roared in pain as she bit his invading tongue as hard as she could. As he released her to clutch at his bloody mouth, she jabbed him in the solar plexus with an elbow, kicked him in the shin, stomped on his instep and finished up with the _piece de resistance, _a knee to the most tender part of his anatomy followed by a vicious karate chop to the back of the neck, at which he collapsed on the floor, wheezing in agony.

Juliette stepped back, spitting and wiping her bloody lips on her sleeve, the copper taste of his blood bitter on her tongue. She stared at the man who lay cursing and moaning at her feet for a moment before leaving the room. Just as she made it to the doorway, she turned and spoke, her icy voice full of fury.

"If you ever come near me again, you'll be walking away minus a few body parts, if you walk away at all. Please send my apologies to the cook for the wasted meal, but I've suddenly lost my appetite. Good day to you, Monsieur."

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Erik gritted his teeth, the look of absolute rage on his masked face only revealing a fraction of his inner fury. He hadn't interfered with Buquet's escapades with the maids in the Chateau, as they had appeared to welcome his pursuit of them, but he'd be damned if he would stand by and let an assault go unpunished. No, Joseph Buquet had been useful to have around, but even useful men could be replaced. He would not tolerate an attempted rapist remaining under his roof for another night---it was time for Joseph Buquet to disappear…..permanently.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for the delay in getting this posted…I've been sick for the past week or so I've been busy nursing my bottle of NyQuil. I'm much better now and ready to get back in action!_

_Thank you to all of you who have read this story, and special thanks to those who have taken the time to review. It really helps writers like me to know what you think about our stories and what you'd like to see happen next!_

_As always I don't own any characters from Leroux, Kay, or ALW's Phantom of the Opera, just the characters and plot lines I make up in my head._

**Chapter 6: Justice and Mercy**

Juliette appeared outwardly clam as she climbed the 3rd floor stairs, but as the sad cliché goes, looks can be deceiving. She had no sooner reached the haven of her room when she made a mad dash for her en suite bath, where she fell to her knees and was violently ill.

Resting her sweating brow against the soothing coolness of the immaculate porcelain commode, she let the tears come as the emotions she had held back finally broke free. Anger, fear, self-doubt, rage, pain…all flashing through her as silent tears made tracks down her troubled face.

Exactly how long she sat there she couldn't say, but finally the storm of emotions passed, leaving a blessed sense of serenity in its wake. Wiping her face with the tail of her shirt, she rose to her feet and gave a sigh of dismay when she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the sink. After brushing her teeth and repairing the damage her emotional breakdown had caused, she felt calm enough to return to her work---at least she did until she returned to her bedroom.

Juliette stopped up short, a gasp of dread escaping her lips when she spotted the letter and its black ribbon-clad accompaniment against her pillow. She wanted to walk past it, pretend she hadn't seen it, but instead she found herself drawn to the bed and picking up the black edged envelope. She took a shaky breath and tore through the still warm wax seal.

_My dear Mmse. Phelps,_

_The unprovoked assault upon your person this morning has not gone unnoticed nor unpunished. It shames me that I have allowed a man capable of such atrocities against the gentler sex to seek shelter under this roof---it is an error that I shall regret until I take my last breath._

_Rest assured, Mademoiselle, Joseph Buquet will not trouble you or any other young woman with his unwanted advances again._

_Your Obedient Servant,_

_The Phantom O.G._

Juliette realized that this letter, unlike the previous missive, was written in a dark red ink that resembled dried blood, and from the tone of the letter, might have very well been written in such. The words written in the elegant script began to swim before her eyes, and the letter slipped from her numb fingers as the room slipped sideways. She was already unconscious and therefore didn't feel her head hit the corner of the bedside table, nor the gentle hands that picked her up moments later.

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The Compte's housekeeper was enjoying a late lunch with her daughter Meghan in the breakfast room when the brusque request interrupted the discussion of the young woman's holiday.

"Antionette, Juliette is in her room and she is injured…please hurry!"

Mrs. Geery was alarmed by the urgency in his voice. "Erik, what on Earth?"

"Please, there's no time for questions right now—she fell and hit her head. I've managed to slow the bleeding, but I believe she may need stitches. She may have a possible concussion as well."

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Moments later, Mrs. Geery and Meghan rushed in to find an unconscious Juliette on her bed, her face pale in contrast to the blood soaked fine linen handkerchief on her forehead. As the housekeeper examined the wound, clucking at the bruising and swelling around the sluggishly bleeding gash, she couldn't help but also notice the bruises on the younger woman's wrists and forearms. While retrieving supplies from her mother's portable first aid kit, Meghan happened to glance down and noticed the note on the floor beside the bed. Her curiosity overwhelmed her shame at invading the injured woman's privacy, and she quickly scanned the missive's contents. She nudged her mother's shoulder and thrust the paper in front of her. "Maman, look!"

"What? What is it?" Mrs. Geery quickly scanned the short note, immediately recognizing the familiar handwriting. Suddenly furious, she called out in an angry voice to the unseen observer. "Erik, show yourself….I know you're here. What is this about an attack on Jules? Tell me you haven't done anything rash!"

"Very well, Madame Geery, I won't tell you." The voice echoing in the room. The hidden panel in the far corner opened silently, and the tall cloaked figure stepped into the bedchamber, bowing to the two women in a courtly manner before continuing. "That filth dared to try and force himself on Mmse. Phelps in her studio this morning, and I took out the garbage, simple as that."

Mrs. Geery sent her daughter from the room with the task of filling an ice bag for the swelling on Juliette's head. "This isn't a laughing matter, Erik. Whatever Joseph Buquet has done, you can no longer play judge and executioner. People in this day and age can't just disappear like in the old days. The police will get involved-----there will be inquiries, and they won't give up until they have answers." Turning back to her patient, she quickly sutured the short but deep gash with neat, sure stitches. "And look what your rash actions have done! This poor girl's scarcely been here 3 days and she's already had two life-threatening accidents—it will be a miracle if she doesn't pack up and leave."

Erik crossed his arms as she stood at the foot of the bed, observing the still figure on the bed. "I admit I was not expecting such a reaction…I would have thought she would be pleased that I removed him after what he attempted to do to her. I am sure, however, that once she recovers she will want to do all in her power to honor her contract. If not, then it will be up to you to persuade her to do so."

"I wouldn't be so certain about that, Erik…were I in her shoes, I would think twice about working in an establishment where being terminated takes on a whole different meaning. Tell me, what have you done with him?"

The tall man sighed. "He's in the secondary wine celler, and before you ask, yes, he is still among the living. Fortunately, I hadn't decided what to do with his mangy carcass yet….although a quick drop and a sudden stop at the end of my punjab lasso is still at the top of my list. I guess it behooves me to hand him over to the authorities and let them deal with him, after I give him a sound thrashing. Will that satisfy you, Madam?"

"For now it will, Monsieur." Mrs. Geery smiled faintly as Meghan returned, ice bag in hand. "And now it would be best if you returned to the phantom's domain and allow my daughter and I to tend to the living, if you don't mind? Meghan, look in the dresser and fetch me a nightgown, will you? And no peeking, Erik!"

An echoing chuckle was the only response as the secret panel slipped shut behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

_Greetings, all, and thank you for your patience. This story has sort of gotten pushed to the back burner, so to speak, while I have been focusing on other projects, but I haven't forgotten about it. I promise to try and update on a more regular basis! Thanks to all the kind folks who have reviewed this little work, and I hope you enjoy it!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the recognizable characters from Phantom of the Opera, nor am I making any profit from this writing._

**Chapter 7: They Meet At Last!**

A rhythmic, stabbing pain that seemed to throb in sync with her heartbeat pulled Juliette back from the void. Without opening her eyes, she reached for the source of the pain, and grimaced when her fingers encountered her tender, recently bandaged forehead. The pounding increased when she tried to sit up, and she was sure that if she opened her eyes that the dizziness she was feeling would have her tossing her cookies in a heartbeat. A groan of mingled pain and frustration, along with a few choice expletives, escaped her as she sank back down into the pillows.

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk…such language coming from such a pretty mouth…Miss Phelps, you shock me!"

The velvety smooth voice from out of nowhere almost made her leap out of her skin, but she managed to hide her reaction well. Maintaining her cool, she replied to his comment with the only weapon available to her at that moment—sarcasm. "You'd be uttering profanities too if you had a gnome inside your head trying to hack his way out of your skull with an ice pick. So please excuse me if my choice of words has offended your "gentler sensibilities." A warm, amused chuckle was his only reply.

. Wincing as her head pounded even harder, she felt the bandage again, a look of confusion on her face. "I feel like I just went a few rounds with Evander Holyfield….what the hell happened, anyway? The last thing I remember is reading a letter from…someone…then nothing." She heard a rustling noise, and the sound of papers shuffling from her right, and realized that the man had been sitting at the writing desk to the left of the bed.

"You struck your head on the bedside table when you fainted. The injury required 3 stitches, and if I am correct, you've got a slight concussion. I've got something here that should help with the pain." She heard the sound of liquid being poured into a glass, and realized that she was suddenly extremely thirsty. The side of the bed dipped, and a couple of pills were placed in her hand. A hand behind her shoulders raised her up just enough for her to pop the pills and wash them down with the water.

"Are you the doctor?" He didn't answer her, but she felt him move; seconds later she was blinking furiously, blinded from the brilliance of his penlight as he checked her pupil's responses. She tried again. "What time is it? How long have I been unconscious? And how, pray tell, do you know how my injury was caused? Are you psychic, or do these walls have eyes and ears?"

"Are all Americans as inquisitive as you, Miss Phelps? So many questions.."

"How did you know I was an Amer.." She stopped short and answered her own question. "Oh…duh…the accent is pretty much a dead giveaway, isn't it?"

She heard him chuckle again "You could say that. And as to your inquiries, it is close to 5 pm…you've been unconscious for a little over 4 hours. I am not a doctor, though I do have some experience with injuries. Madame Geery was the one who stitched your head—a very neat job she did of it too. There shouldn't even be a scar."

"If you're not a doctor, then what are you doing here? I don't recall meeting you before, and the last time I checked I was a little old to need a babysitter. And you still didn't answer my other question…how did you know the details of how I was injured when I can barely remember them myself?"

"You remind me of a rotweiller, Miss Phelps….once you sink your teeth into something, you don't let go, do you?"

(((_Damn…that voice could talk a nun out of her granny panties, it's so smooth…))) _Juliette opened her eyes partway and tried to focus her blurry eyes on the profile of her dark clothed antagonist, blinking rapidly. " I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted, sir….although I have to admit, I've never been called a bitch quite so eloquently before."

His warm chuckle washed over her again, and she was had to fight hard to repress the shiver that went through her at the sound. "No insult was intended, Mademoiselle… I was just making an observation. Madame Geery asked me to spell her for a bit while she took care of Chateau business, although I would have done so even if she had not asked."

That admission sent a chill of a different sort down Juliette's spine. "Why would you do such a thing for a perfect stranger? I don't even know your name."

She heard his heavy sigh, and opening her eyes once more she watched as he rose and walked to the window, pulling aside the shade and glancing out at the setting sun before speaking. "It was my negligence and apathy regarding the staff at the chateau that led to your injury. I was furious when Joseph attempted to hurt you and felt it was my duty to avenge your honor." He let the shade drop and turned back to face the bed. "However, I didn't take into consideration what your reaction would be to the letter I left for you this morning; I only wanted you to know that you were safe and that he was no longer in a position to threaten you. Therefore, through my actions I am directly responsible for your pain."

There was a sudden tension in the room that hadn't been there moments before as the information he had just imparted sank in to Juliette's whirling brain. _HE wrote the letter this morning…that meant that he wrote the other notes and left the flowers and… _Her eyes flew open once more, and this time she was able to focus on the man who had been haunting her since she arrived. A sable-haired man in a black cable knit sweater and slacks, his white half mask a startling contrast to the darkness of his clothing. He was tall, slender, and appeared to be well developed beneath his tailored clothing. The uncovered portion of his face was handsome, startlingly so, and Juliette was suddenly embarrassed to be to focus of his attention. _Oh no…if he's the one that wrote the notes, that means that he.…Oh no!_

At her sudden gasp and moan, he took three wide strides and was suddenly at her side, grasping her hands and pulling them down from over her eyes. "What is it, _petite_? Are you in pain?" When she shook her head no and squeezed her eyes shut, he became irritated. "Why are you crying?" he ground out, his eyes flashing as he took in her suddenly flaming face and the tears. "Do I frighten you so much, then? You think I am such a monster that I would harm you?"

"No…its not that. If you had wanted me dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"If not fear, then what is the cause of your tears?"

"Gee, let me it be that I woke up to find the weirdo that's been leaving me tokens and letters has been watching me in my sleep. Or the fact that one of those tokens nearly caused me to asphyxiate? Or it might be the thought of someone having been harmed or maybe even killed because of me is a bit upsetting! I handled the situation this morning perfectly well, on my own I might add, and then I find this note saying that Joseph would never harm me or any other female again…how do you think that makes me feel? And to top it all off, if you are indeed the one who's been writing the notes to me, you saw me naked and had the testicular fortitude to comment on that fact in writing! Pardon me if I am overly emotional—I'm a bit stressed at the moment, and I wish you would just go away!"

"Pauvre petite—this job has not been what you were expecting, was it?" The grip on her wrists was gone, and the tension in the room eased visibly. She heard him chuckle again, and opened her eyes to glare at him, only to jerk her head away as he attempted to wipe her face with the handkerchief that had suddenly appeared in his hand. Growling a warning, he grasping her chin with his left hand and wiped her face before placing the cloth in one of her hands. "Relax, Miss Phelps, neither of us have black marks on our souls, at least not for the death of Joseph Buquet. He is very much alive, although a bit worse for wear, and is in police custody as we speak. I have already apologized for the rose incident, and as for the other, well, I could not let such beauty go unremarked upon---I am French, after all, and we are not known for showing restraint where beauty is concerned…" He rose from the bed and stood looking down at her, his head tilted slightly as he looked down at her from his great height. "However, if seeing me _au naturale_ would satisfy your sense of fair play?" With that comment he began to lift his sweater off over his head, revealing chiseled 6 pack abs and a narrow waist above his belted trousers.

(((_OH YEAH BABY! TAKE IT OFF…HAVE MERCY!))) _Her subconscious mind was dancing a jig along with her hormones at the same time she managed to squeak out a strangled "No!", blushing and closing her eyes against the tempting sight. She opened them a moment later to find him still standing there, his arms crossed and clothing intact as he watched her, an amused expression on his face---an expression that let her know that he knew exactly how his proximity affected her.

The ache in her head finally easing a bit, Juliette slid up against the headboard and met his amused gaze head on. "Listen, Mr. Phantom, or O.G., or whatever you call yourself, I am a big girl. I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself, I have done so for years, and I don't need any help from you. I came here to do a job, so please stop with the notes and flowers and let me get on with what I came here to do so I can get the hell out and get on with my life. Now, do we have an understanding, or am I going to have to get medieval on your ass?"

That comment earned her a full fledged laugh from the man in black before her. "Ahh, mademoiselle, you never cease to astound me. I got the genus wrong—you are a feline, not a canine….mewling like a helpless kitten one minute, and snarling like a ferocious lioness the next." He leaned over the bed, resting his weight on his fists on either side of her hips as he leaned in close. "It is my nature to study things and people who…interest me, and you, Miss Phelps, happen to fall into that category. Besides, we get so few visitors to the Chateau that I was in danger of succumbing to boredom until you arrived. I have already made you a promise that I will respect your privacy, _petite_, but don't expect me not to look out for you. I am a creature of habit, after all, and you are very easy on the eyes." His predatory grin infuriated her, and if looks could kill he would be stone cold dead. Juliette watched silently as he walked across the room, and gasped when a portion of the wall swung open as if by magic as he approached it. He paused, one hand on the secret panel, smirking as he looked back at her stunned expression.

"My name is Eric, and please tell Mrs. Geery I am sorry that I couldn't stay until she returned, but a certain patient of hers wasn't impressed with my bedside manner. Rest well, mademoiselle." And with that, he vanished, the panel slipping silently shut behind him.


End file.
